


Misc.

by ezkatz



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 08:57:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20757746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezkatz/pseuds/ezkatz
Summary: A place for half-finished scenes and general moicy nonsense.





	1. Chapter 1

Angela sat on the examination table with her feet in the stirrups and her skirt pulled up around her hips. Moira positioned herself between her legs and pulled on a pair of gloves. She snapped the gloves as they pulled over her long fingers, squeezing them into fists to adjust the fit. Moira hooked her fingers underneath the waistband of Angela's panties and slid them down her shapely legs. They were silky rose-colored pair that crumbled easily in her hand as Moira put them in her coat pocket. She traced her fingertips up Angela's inner thighs--just barely touching her soft skin--and followed with her lips. Goosebumps dotted her skin as she shuddered at Moira's touch.  
"Dr. Ziegler, I must ask that you stay still during your examination" she smiled a touch too wide. Moira began to tease her labia with her knuckles and looked up at her; Angela's eyes were wide and desperate. She whimpered a little.  
"You're already so wet. What were you doing before our little meeting?" She leaned in, her eyes squarely on Angela's flushed cunt.  
"I've been thinking about you all day, Dr. O'Deorain" she admitted, shifting uncomfortably.  
"And what could you possibly be thinking about to get you so eager?"  
Moira spread Angela's lips and pressed her tongue firmly against folds, humming softly as she dragged it slowly up towards her clit. Angela whimpered, biting her hand to stifle the sound.  
"It's been so long since someone's touched you like this, hasn't it Dr. Ziegler?" Her breath was hot against her cunt. Another lick, this time with the tip of her tongue pressing against Angela's entrance and circling her clit. Moira squeezed her thigh with her free hand, digging her nails into the doctor's soft skin. Angela sucked in her lower lip and grabbed a fistful of Moira's hair to keep her close to her cunt. Her hips moved erratically, grinding against Moira's face as her tongue pressed deeper inside of her and her nose teased at her aching clit.  
"D-doctor--" Angela started before her breathy voice became buried under a high moan.  
Moira continued, eagerly exploring her cunt as her legs began to shake around her head. She gripped Angela's thighs firmly, holding them still.  
"Dr. Ziegler I'm going to have to ask you to be quiet while I work. You really ought to know better" her voice was low and muffled as she pressed kisses into her inner thighs.  
Angela gripped the edges of the exam table impatiently "Please I have to get back to work soon Moira"  
She teased her entrance with her knuckles again, her gloved fingers coated in her slick.  
"As you wish"  
Moira rubbed Angela's throbbing clit with her thumb and inserted two fingers into her yielding cunt. She stood--towering over her--and wrapped her other hand around her throat, eking out a high whimper.  
"Cum for me"  
Angela's face flushed a vibrant pink, her mouth wide. She gripped Moira's forearms with both hands, digging her nails in as her back arched  
"Cum for me now, Ziegler"  
Moira quickened her pace. Her grip tightened. Angela gasped. Her body shuddered. She went limp--a sudden rush of relief.  
Moira stared down at her for a moment. Even now she looked like a saint.  
"Clean yourself up" she pulled off her gloves and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.  
She buried her hands deep into her coat pockets. The silk panties tangled easily around her fingers. Angela would have to come back for them soon enough


	2. Aching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Less smut more angst

"Always so difficult"   
It's a phrase my mother said about me and one I repeat to myself sometimes. Despite my best efforts to be neat and sensible, I've always been difficult for other people. My conservative dress so radical, as if a tie becomes scandalous once around a woman's neck. My manner, direct and efficient, somehow more confusing than feminine obfuscation. My work to better humanity, controversial despite my strides.  
Like many truths, my being is difficult for those of limited understand to digest.   
My difficulties and strange hours have left me alone most of my life; too much to handle for more than a night, it seems. I accepted this long ago. My fits of loneliness only hit when I see the wrinkled skin around my eyes or feel the strain on my back after a long night or hear the mingling laughter from across the hall. 

When Dr. Angela Ziegler entered my life, she was painful to look at. A bright, shining light casting my shadows into stark contrast. She was cordial, as ever, and avoided the prickly topics of my past with grace. As she was kind, I was cruel; the isolation is much more unbearable when relief is fresh on your lips.   
I knew she was a lesbian when we met. She carried herself with practiced elegance, effervescent in her manner. She suppressed a smile when she shook my hand--hardly professional--and I felt weightless. She could so easily have any of the admittedly accomplished men surrounding her, yet it was me she looked upon with lingering eyes.   
When we first kissed she touched my shoulders and neck gingerly, tracing gentle fingertips through my hair and down my spine. We were both tipsy at a morale-boosting mandatory work party, as it's the only way to cope with compulsory social activities. Her touch cut through the heaviness of the bourbon in my stomach; never had I felt more seen than that moment. With no concerns about workplace regulations, compatibility, or shame to slow me, I lead her to my quarters.   
Her tongue was cool against mine, though her cunt was hot as I rubbed it through her panties. Always a lady, Angela had worn a pale yellow dress that slid effortlessly over her thighs. She moaned into my ear and dug her nails into my shoulders as I kissed down her neck.  
We broke free long enough for me to clumsily slide on my harness and silicone cock. She rubbed and squeezed it as if I could feel it; in some ways I could. Angela fell to her knees before me, looking up with big blue eyes and kissed down the length of its shaft. She closed her eyes-- ever reverent--and moaned as she wrapped her lips around it.   
She would moan louder when I slid into her soft pussy and dig her nails into my back. The indulgence of my own masochism was a welcome surprise; too often ignored by more selfish lovers.   
She fell asleep on my chest. I ran my fingers through her hair, focusing on her warmth and the rise and fall of her breath.   
The next morning we would try to pretend it didn't happen.


End file.
